162 A MINOR CHAMELEON. 
chrysalis ; that is to say, a life in abeyance— 
a creature, as the chemists would say, in 
‘solution,’ waiting to be ‘ precipitated.’ 
Many months went by, and the very exist- 
ence of the chrysalis had been forgotten ; but 
it was still there, biding its time. 
Then, one hot summer day, a robin, pros- 
pecting behind the currant-bushes against the 
wall, came suddenly upon what looked like a 
flat chip of bark caught up on the rough wall. 
It was of a creamy white, with dark spots and 
marks—a shaving of bark, without a doubt. 
The robin eyed it, and passed on. But 
before he passed on he went and inspected an 
empty, and evidently but just recently evacu- 
ated, mahogany-and-yellow chrysalis-case that 
hung close beside the bark-shaving. The little 
fool ! 
Four minutes after the robin had gone the 
bark-shaving moved. It moved—yes; and it 
walked. Up the wall it strolled. Then— 
merciful happenings !—it flew. Straight across 
the garden it flapped gaily, down the paths, 
all lit with the ruby light of the setting sun— 
a moth, a magpie-moth, the final form of 
our chrysalis and our caterpillar. Its meta- 
morphosis was now complete. 
But fate was not kind to it in that hour, 
for the dainty flicker of the pretty wings 
